Maybe It's Our First Mistake
by Mac-alicious
Summary: Insights into the relationship of Draco and Hermione. Five Word inspired drabbles per chapter. Not interconnected. AU. Rated for mature implications and character death.
1. Maybe It's Our First Mistake

**A/N: ** This is another set of word-inspired drabbles. This time, the category is HP, the pairing is Dramione. There are five words per "chapter" and a paragraph per word. They are unconnected and AUs (obviously). There will be six "chapters" in total. Here's the first. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! -Mac

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP.

**Maybe It's Our First Mistake**

**Wife**

Sometimes when they're lying together, tangled in his silk sheets, he wonders what it would be like to wake up beside her every day. He wonders what it would be like to know she was his in every way. He wonders what it would be like to have her as a wife. They're wonderful fantasies that he spins in his head while she sleeps beside him. But he knows they're just that, fantasies, glimpses of dreams he's not allowed to have. But he knows that were his fate different, if he could take a different path…every road would lead to her.

**Eyes**

She dreams about his silver eyes. She dreams of his face. She dreams of running her fingers through his hair. And she wakes as his warmth is replaced by the cold seeping into the tent. It takes her a moment to remember where exactly they were—they had been moving around so much it was hard to keep track. She wonders where he is, what he's doing. She misses him, misses his touch—but she pushes the longing away. Because wherever he is, he can't possibly be missing her.

**Unsuccessful**

He tries to avoid her and is unsuccessful (he finds himself seeking her out, searching the castle for her). He tries to ignore her and is unsuccessful (how can he bloody ignore her when she's standing in front of him, offering him her hand?). He tries to push her away and is unsuccessful (he only pulls her closer, pulls her into him, he melts into her). He tries to hate her with every fiber of his being as he should and is unsuccessful (how can he hate her when his heart beats for her?).

**Circles**

He's the last one to go to sleep—he always has been. When he was still in the Slytherin dormitories, he would wait until he heard every other boy fall asleep before he could even contemplate sleeping. Now that he shares a bed with her, he can't even doze off until she is slumbering peacefully. Often times, he takes to watching her sleep, watching the perfect rise and fall of her chest as she breathes evenly. He likes to trace circles into her skin with his fingertips—it's his way of proving that she's still there. Something tangible, not the wisp of a dream or a memory. His fingers are still dancing over her skin when his eyelids finally droop and sleep takes him.

**Designate**

She has always been a lover of organization. She likes there to be a reason for everything and moreover she likes to _know_ the reason for everything. Thus, she designates a purpose to everything she does (she attends the Quidditch matches because it shows House loyalty and support of her friends; she eats a full breakfast because studies show that it helps one be more alert and productive through the day). But with him, she had no purpose, at least not one she could discern. And she thinks maybe she doesn't need one with him. It isn't until later, when she looks back on what resulted of the affair, that she realized her logical brain had failed her. That maybe allowing herself that brief liberation of social order…maybe it had been her first mistake.


	2. A Final Sort of Desperation

**A/N: ** This is the final set of words. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! -Mac

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP.

**A Final Sort Of Desperation**

**Positive**

It isn't until a month after the abrupt end of their affair that she finds out it may have had more consequences than her broken heart. She's late and she has to know. She has to know if he's left her with more than a shattered perspective of love. She has to know if…the test is positive and she's so afraid that she doesn't tell anyone. When in the midst of battle, a nasty spell hits her and knocks her down a flight of stairs—she's covered in blood and she knows, she knows, maybe, no one was meant to know.

**Midday**

The first time he kissed her it was Midday. They each had a free period-she had dropped one of her N.E.W.T. level classes when she realized her schedule would be too tight as she had all her work (and all Ron's and part of Harry's…)—and they crossed paths in the hall. He had sneered an insult in her direction and something in her snapped. She screamed at him until she couldn't breathe. Then instead of arguing back, he crashed his lips down on hers—and she was breathless for a whole different reason. The last time he kissed her it was Midnight. All around them, people of the Light and Dark were fighting. Some part of her knew she would be the one to face him. She dreaded it, but she knew she would do what she had to. She let him pull her into his arms and kiss her with a final sort of desperation before she broke away. With tears in her eyes, she whispered the curse under her breath.

**Cotton**

He was curious, as any hot-blooded male must have been. The subject of his curiosity, one might ask: the certain quality of the unmentionables of Hermione Granger. Of course, he was supposed to loathe her, and he kind of did, but should he get the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity (hatred or no hatred) he was going to take it. And an opportunity he did get. When he slipped off her skirt, he wasn't surprised to find simple white cotton. It was so pure, so innocent, so_ her_. He would have been disappointed if it had been anything else.

**Laid**

Throughout the time they spent together, the coming war was always at the forefront of their minds. They knew they were on opposing sides and they knew neither would be giving up their cause for the other. But the one question that ate away at them both was what would they do should they come face to face in battle? It was an unspoken question but eventually it had to be voiced. And it was…he asked, "If I laid down my wand, would you kill me?" "No," she answered. She would never be able to bear the thought of killing the man she loved, even if all he stood for went against everything she believed. She posed the same question. "If I laid down my wand, would you still kill me?" She knew the answer already, but she needed to hear it from him. He barely faltered as the answer fell from his lips, "_Yes_."

**Argues**

He argues, because if there is one thing he is good at doing it is telling people that they are wrong. Usually, even if they're right, people will bend to his will if he argues their point. But with her, it's hard to argue when she's _so bloody right_ all the time. He hates the self satisfied smirk that graces her lips every time he tries to tell her she's wrong—because she _knows_ with complete bloody certainty that she's right. He hates that smirk so much that he has no choice but to wipe it off her face the only other way he knows how: by kissing her square on the mouth. Because if there's one thing he is better at doing than telling people they're wrong…it is…


End file.
